Ten More Minutes
by Jennie Exell
Summary: BA How much would it really take to break a man? Buffy Survivor week one, three word challenge.


Buffy POV

I'm watching my ex-husband and our son play in the back yard, through our kitchen window. He brought Liam a new bicycle this morning; he was just getting too big for his old one. And Its such a wonderful sight, they look almost identical the two of them, tall, dark, and our son is going to be such a heart breaker when he's older, he's so hansom, just like his father was. I know he loves spending this time with Liam.

Angel and I were married for 12 years. I can remember each and every moment. The day he showed up on my doorstep in Italy, beaten, broken and human. I can remember holding him while he grieved over his lost friends. I remember the day he proposed, at sunset on a gondola, while we were having a weekend away in Venice. I remember our wedding day, a bright sunny June afternoon in England, the ceremony held out doors on the watchers council grounds. I've never seen such joy on a persons face, as I saw on his, the day I told him I was pregnant, except for when he held Liam for the first time.

God, we were so happy, the three of us in our own blissful bubble; year upon year of joy, laughter, love and bliss. But then it turned so sour, so fast, and now we've been divorced 2 years.

Back then our lives were simple, I quit working in any official way for the council when Liam was born, but I still worked, a nice cushy job in marketing, well paid and with nice hours. Angel stayed home with Liam, had done since he was 6 months old; for someone born in the 18th century, his views on gender roles were very much of the 21st.

It all started to go wrong though, after Giles died. In a way it was worse than when I lost my Mom. I remember when I got the phone call from Willow; we were all just sitting down to dinner, Angel had made macaroni cheese, when the phone rang. After Willow told me Giles had had a heart attack, at the not so old age of 72, I broke down. I was hysterical, and I don't remember much, but I know Angel sent Liam upstairs and just held me, I hadn't even told him what had happened. The next few days, hell even weeks were a blur. But I know Angel caught me as I collapsed at the funeral, I know he sat with me on the damp cemetery ground through out the rest of the service, my legs no longer being able to hold me. But after tears came this insane anger, and every one suffered.

Especially Angel, my amazing loving, emotionally defenceless Angel; at least when it comes to me. You see, whenever he would try and comfort me, I bitched at him, I blamed him. The things I said make me want to heave, but I said them and he took each and every one of them. When I told him he didn't deserve to have lived as long as he had, when a man as good as Giles gets to die at 72, he just swallowed it. When I asked how he could live with himself all these years, having what he'd taken away from Giles, a wife and family; he just shook his head and said he didn't know.

So I lived in a world of rage and Angel sunk into a depression. I didn't notice, so wrapped up in my own grief. I lost my job, and being around each other 24/7 got too much. I threw him out, and filed for divorce. It was Guy Fawkes Night here in England, the crash of fireworks punctuating my vitriolic rant. He didn't plead, or beg, he didn't argue; he just said goodnight to Liam, packed his stuff and went. It took a month to get the divorce papers together, so three months after Giles died, all that was needed to end our marriage was a signature.

And I got it, along with a phone call from the Royal Free Hospital, here in Hampstead, saying my husband had been brought in. Turns out, Angel had received the papers, signed them, and drunk a whole bottle of very fine Irish whisky, along with a truckload of pills. It was like I suddenly woke up, and I realised this was my fault. I had done to Angel what hell couldn't and only The First had managed to get close to doing.

I got Willow to take care of Liam and stayed at the hospital for days, as the doctors fought to save his life. When he finally woke up, he wasn't my Angel any more; he was mute, and cried constantly. He wouldn't look at anyone, and when he could finally move around, the first he tried was to take his life again, beating on the orderlies that tried stopping him. They kept him there, at the hospital, saying he was danger to himself and others. At first they wouldn't let me see him, he got too agitated while I was around, but the others went, and slowly he started to get better.

Its getting dark out, I should really call them inside, but I can't bear to break them apart just yet. You see Angel isn't really better now; he's just on day release from the facility he's in. he comes once a week to spend time with Liam, and we talk but he never says much. At first the visits were supervised, and when I tried to talk to him, tell him how sorry I was and how much I loved him, he got upset, and they took him away. Now he comes on his own, and he doesn't get upset so easily, but we never talk about anything personal. Every time he comes to see Liam, he looks a little stronger, and when he leaves I can see more and more of the man he used to be. If it wasn't for Liam, I know he would have given up.

Its getting close to Liam's bedtime, but I'll give them ten more minutes.

THE END

_Challenge words. Cheese, Fireworks, Bicycle._


End file.
